


Both Sides Now

by mayyoursurvivalbelong



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Development, Character Study, Conflicting Feelings, Denial of Feelings, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Feelings Realization, Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, Male-Female Friendship, Oblivious Ellie, Questioning Abby, Romantic Friendship, Roommates, Secrets, Slow Burn, WLF vs Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayyoursurvivalbelong/pseuds/mayyoursurvivalbelong
Summary: “If you lie to me one more time...I’m gone. You willneversee me again.” Joel lies, Ellie heads to Seattle to find answers, and ends up joining the WLF. She never expected to visit Jackson again, until she learns of a little expedition a certain group of Wolves is planning...
Relationships: Abby & Ellie (The Last of Us), Abby/Ellie (The Last of Us), Abby/Owen (The Last of Us), Dina/Jesse (The Last of Us), Mel/Owen (The Last of Us)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 134





	1. Isaac

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts two years after the end of the first game and two years before the start of the second. Ellie is seventeen, Abby is nineteen. It is canon-divergent/slightly AU. If you’re here to hate on Abby you’re in the wrong place. Hope you enjoy!

_Most people have left already. I don’t know which group I’m gonna join. I was one of the ones that wanted to go after the smuggler and the girl. They said, “even if we found her or by some miracle found someone else that’s immune, it’d make no difference, because the only person who could develop a vaccine is dead.”_ A pause. A sniffle. A deep, shaky breath. _I’ll probably just go to Seattle… I miss you._

Armed only with this recording; a tiny scrap of written correspondence indicating that “the kids” were being sent to someone named Isaac; and her horse, gear, and the clothes on her back, she arrived, half-conscious and bleeding profusely, at the gate of the Seattle QZ. 

Floodlights blinded her as she approached, sending pain shooting through her skull. “Who’s there?” a voice boomed from somewhere up atop the massive concrete gate, somewhere behind the light. “Hands where I can see ‘em!”

“Can’t," she gasped. She could barely sit upright, let alone lift her arms. Her hands clung limply to the reigns, unresponsive. 

“Shit,” the voice hissed, and she heard the piercing squawk of a radio. “I need a medic!”

She slid sideways off Shimmer, eyes rolling back into her head, and the ground rushed up to meet her.

///

“Don’t get up.”

Okay, but she had to puke. 

She rolled over, not without effort, and did so, also not without effort. Someone near her feet swore and dove in with a bucket, catching the last of her refuse. When she was finally done she was gently rolled back onto her back and whined as pain exploded in her shoulder. She howled, surprised by the sound of her own distress.

“What do you need?” It was a man’s voice, low and patient. 

“I need Mel,” the first voice snapped, her voice textured like sandpaper. “What’s her twenty?”

“She’s en route from the FOB.”

“Then put her under again.”

“But--”

“Do it now!”

The world swirled around her in a whirlpool of colour and light, and then everything went black.

///

She woke much more peacefully this time, blinking into the dark room through puffy eyes. It was small and windowless, rendering it impossible to tell the time of day or surrounding area. She couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to; her body felt heavy as lead. There was a movement to her right, and a small penlight shone directly into her eyes. They closed on reflex, but a gentle thumb lifted each lid in turn to get a good look. “Can you hear me?”

She pulled her chin out of their grip, squeezing her eyes shut, and nodded once. 

“You’re okay,” said the voice, soft and female. “You had a nasty wound in your shoulder and lost a lot of blood, but we patched you up. We’re thinking you hit your head pretty hard, too. Can you tell me your name?”

“Ellie,” she croaked, her throat burning. She couldn’t have thought of another name quickly enough. What did it matter, now, anyway?

“Can you open your eyes, Ellie?”

She pried one open. It hurt, burned even, and flooded with tears almost instantly. “Hurts.”

“I know. You’re doing great. I just need you to stay awake for a little bit, okay?” She pressed the back of her hand to Ellie's forehead, then breathed out in what Ellie could only place as relief. “Good news. Your fever’s broken.” It occurred to Ellie that the young woman's voice sounded familiar, but she had no idea why or how. In any case, there was no way she had any capacity to try and place it now. Through watery eyes she could barely make out a petite frame and dark hair. “My name’s Mel,” the young woman said then, and Ellie caught her offer of a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna be fine, Ellie.”

Ellie passed out again.

///

They wanted to talk to her.

She knew what that meant. She’d been here a few days, apparently, and now they wanted answers. She'd anticipated this, and at one point had had a plan, but that had long since vacated her mind. 

Her stomach churned as the truck rattled over rough terrain. Mel, watching Ellie like a hawk as always, nudged a bucket in her direction, but Ellie shook her head gently. She wasn’t going to puke - not yet. They were alone in the back of the truck, with a couple of soldiers occupying the front seat. They - this... _militia_ was the only way Ellie could define it - must have “borrowed” the vehicle from FEDRA and repurposed it for their own needs; it was made of the same stuff the military had had in Boston, and in surprisingly good condition. 

They were on the way to the home base. This much Ellie had gathered; they’d remained pretty tight-lipped about much, though she hadn’t had much energy to ask many questions. It was a grey day, and the air contained a damp sort of chill. Mel had wrapped a scratchy wool blanket around Ellie's shoulders and it itched the skin around her neck, but she burrowed deeper into it regardless, seeking warmth. 

Mel’s brow furrowed as she watched Ellie, and leaned forward. “Doing okay?”

“What should I expect?” Ellie asked, her voice scraping out of her raw throat.

Mel understood her meaning immediately. Her doe-like brown eyes were kind as ever. “Isaac just wants to talk. We don’t get many injured lone travelers arriving at the Wall in the middle of the night.”

 _Isaac._ Ellie's stomach heaved again, and this time she thought she might need Mel’s bucket after all, but she swallowed thickly and the sensation passed. “The kids”, whoever they were, had been sent to someone named Isaac in Seattle. It couldn’t be a coincidence. 

Ellie knew the rest of Mel’s sentence was likely something like, “especially a seventeen-year-old girl”, but she was far too tactful to say that. She was barely older than Ellie herself, Ellie realized, maybe two or three years her senior, though she had the disposition of an old soul, someone wise beyond her years. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a severe bun at the back of her head; a true soldier.

A fleet of similar military trucks passed them heading in the opposite direction, and Ellie caught the stares of several soldiers bearing varying levels of interest. The trucks were emblazoned with the initials “WLF”, as was all their gear and equipment she’d seen so far. She hadn’t had the energy to ask.

“We’ll go in through the medical tent,” Mel explained, raising a hand to flag a soldier perched atop a wired gate before we passed through it. “I know Nora wants to see how you’re doing.”

Ellie had no idea who Nora was, but she nodded anyway, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

Their forward base was bustling with activity. Ellie was starting to get a sense of the size of their operation; they weren’t fucking around. Everything was organized, professional, paramilitary becoming straight-up military. The truck rolled to a stop outside a gate labelled MEDICAL, set within a tall chain link fence with barbed wire looped around the top. Mel got out first, then held her hands out to help Ellie down; Ellie's left arm was pressed against her chest in a tight sling and her other limbs still felt heavy and clumsy. 

Mel guided Ellie into the medical tent, one hand placed gingerly on her back, in a way that would have been annoying if Ellie didn’t know she had good intentions, and also knew what the fuck she was doing. There were a handful of patients receiving treatment, only one or two in particularly gruesome condition. 

A young woman, as petite as Mel and wearing a white apron, approached them with a grin. “Up and about, huh?” she asked Ellie. Ellie blinked, unable to hide the fact that she had no idea who she was. The girl's smile grew wider. “I’m Nora. I pried you off the ground at the Wall.”

Ellie recognized her voice then. _Then put her under again._

“Thanks,” she said stupidly.

Nora shared a glance with Mel before guiding Ellie over to an unoccupied gurney. She clambered up onto it without question, feet swinging childlike above the ground. “How are you feeling?” Nora asked.

Ellie didn’t know how to answer that. “Fine.”

Nora glanced at a chart that Mel had handed her. “Feeling anxious at all?”

It was Ellie's turn to glance at Mel. “Should I be?”

“I told her Isaac just wants to talk,” Mel explained hastily.

“He does.” Nora met Ellie's gaze steadily. “He can be...a little intense. We’ll go with you, but… if you want something to take the edge off a little bit… I can give you something.”

“You wanna drug me before your boss interrogates me?” Ellie extrapolated dryly, raising an eyebrow. 

They exchanged a look, and she got the sense they were having a non-verbal conversation she wasn’t privy to. Mel spoke first, placing a hand on Ellie's uninjured forearm. “If you want,” was all she said. Not a denial, but not revealing anything either.

Ellie narrowed her eyes, starting to feel even more uneasy about the whole thing. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

They emerged, blinking, into the cool air outside the tent. The sun was trying to peek through thin clouds, and the brightness of it all hurt her eyes and started a dull throbbing at the base of her skull. It was considerably louder out here, on this side of the tent. Groups of soldiers were strewn about the base haphazardly; Mel and Nora veered off for a moment to talk to someone, leaving Ellie to look around awkwardly.

To her left was a caged off pasture where a particularly large group of people were gathered, all dressed in fatigues. At the center of the pasture, two soldiers were fighting with a ferocity she had never seen in a training setting before. And one of them was a girl, Ellie realized with a start. The sun glinted off her blond hair as she tackled her opponent to the ground, pulling his arm back in a move that would have easily snapped his forearm if she had been going all-out. He reached up to snatch at her hair, pulled back in a braid, but she dodged and punched him in the jaw for good measure, earning an approving howl from the watchers. A whistle blew, and she helped her opponent to his feet, slapping him hard on the shoulder before moving off to re-wrap her knuckles. She glanced up as she did so, lips parted and shoulders rolling as she exhaled heavily, and made direct eye contact with Ellie. A jolt of self-consciousness passed through Ellie at being caught essentially staring, and she looked away - but when she looked back again the blonde's eyes were still on her, her hands pausing mid-wrap.

“Ellie.” It was Mel, at her elbow. “You ready?” Ellie tore her eyes from the blond soldier and followed them into a tall building, her heart sinking into her stomach as she crossed the threshold. Isaac. _Finally._

The building was dark and cold, the kind of cold that burrows itself into your bones before you even fully register it. It must have once been an apartment building; a concierge desk was off to the right, covered with boxes and other gear. Nora and Mel led Ellie around a corner and down a long hallway, lined with closed doors, and into an elevator. She was startled when it jolted to life at the push of a button; it wasn’t usual to find a working elevator. The building clearly had power, though the lights in the lobby had been off - perhaps as an act of conservation.

She counted the floors - twelve altogether - and they disembarked the elevator, crossing another narrow hallway until finally, Mel stopped at a closed door. “Remember,” she said softly, “he just wants to talk. And...call him sir. It’s more official that way.”

Ellie nodded, swallowing the quickly growing lump in her throat. 

Mel opened the door and Ellie stepped into what must have been the penthouse suite of the apartment building, now repurposed as Isaac’s office. The lights weren’t on but the floor-to-ceiling windows provided plenty of natural light, casting the large open space in a sort of grey haze. It was tidy in here, and sparsely furnished. Ellie blinked; she hadn’t really known what to expect when she walked through this door, but this wasn’t it. 

The main focus of the room, it seemed, was a huge table placed nearish to the windows. It was the only thing that didn’t appear in order, although she was sure it was likely organized chaos for Isaac. It was laden with large maps and stacks of paper, pencil stubs and a couple tin mugs she’d seen some of the soldiers holding outside. Isaac himself - she assumed this was Isaac - was bent over the table, and barely moved when they walked in apart from flicking his eyes upwards, regarding them from under hooded eyelids. He was tall and broad, but with a stooped posture that indicated he’d endured more than one major injury in his lifetime. He was older than she’d been expecting, too - if she had to guess, she’d say probably around Joel’s age or maybe even older - and didn’t immediately strike her as an imposing threat. She kept her guard up, however; the man didn’t put together a militia like this without considerable power and dominance, regardless of physical appearance.

“Sir,” Mel said, leading by example, “this is Ellie. The tres- the refugee we found at the Wall the other day.”

Ellie chewed on her cheek, trying not to think about the fact that Mel had almost just called her a trespasser. For the first time it was beginning to dawn on her just what she was doing. Rage had fueled her for most of her journey to Seattle, and the need for survival had taken over after her run-in with those _people_ \- she repressed a shudder at the dull memory of torches and shaved heads - and now she was mostly focused on standing upright and not throwing up. In short, it had been awhile since she’d had a rational thought, and now she wanted to kick herself for ever leaving Salt Lake City. Actually, no - for ever leaving _Jackson_. If she hadn’t gone to Salt Lake, if she hadn’t searched that hospital, if she hadn’t been so desperate for answers - 

But she _needed_ them. She needed answers. That was why she was here. She _had_ to know what happened that night.

_Tell me...what happened here._

And, yeah. She couldn’t be around Joel anymore. That much was painfully, crystal clear. 

Isaac pushed himself up from the table, his broad shoulders set defensively, and regarded Ellie with an unreadable expression. She shifted under his gaze, uncomfortable. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then his dark eyes flickered to Mel. “Leave us.”

Ellie's mouth fell open, and she felt Mel and Nora tense up on either side of her. “Sir, we said we’d-” But Isaac fixed Mel with a stare that made Ellie suddenly understand very clearly that stooped posture or not, Isaac was not someone she wanted to mess with. 

Mel placed a featherlight touch on Ellie's back and met her eyes for a quick second before passing back through the door, Nora at her heels. They closed it behind them, and Ellie was alone with Isaac.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Ellie wasn’t sure where to look, so she settled for the window, taking in the view of the Seattle harbor that would have been pretty if she weren’t shitting her pants. A ferris wheel stuck out on the skyline; from here she could just barely see the carriages swaying in the wind coming off the ocean.

“Let’s get this out of the way right now,” Isaac said suddenly, making her jump. His voice was low and gravely and made her blood run cold. “I have a strong bullshit detector. You lie to me, I’ll know. Simple as that.”

She pressed her lips together. Breathed. “Yes, sir.”

His mouth twitched at that. He lumbered out from behind the table and walked towards a desk on the far side of the room with a noticeable limp; his left leg remained stiff as he moved. A knee injury then, she guessed, or he’d taken a bullet to the thigh. He sat himself down and looked at her expectantly. She willed herself into action and crossed the room to sit on the other side of the desk from him, perching on the edge of the seat. She felt sick.

He leaned across the desk, fingers laced together. “I’ll start simple,” he said roughly. “Where did you come from?”

“Wyoming,” she responded easily.

“Long way from home,” he said. “You travelled alone?”

“I had my horse,” she said without thinking. This could have been considered sassy, but it didn’t seem to phase Isaac, whose mouth twitched again.

He leaned back then, sinking back into his chair with a soft grunt. “And how did a kid from Wyoming and her horse end up at my Wall, half dead, in the middle of the night?”

Ellie wasn’t sure how much truth to tell him. She didn’t know what he knew. She knew he hadn’t been at Saint Mary’s that night, but the kids who had been sent to him were - they were the ones she needed to talk to. But she knew this conversation would be what determined whether she was allowed to stay here or not - possibly whether she lived or died, at this point, who knew - and she had to get on this guy’s good side.

“I was trying to find you,” she told him simply.

He had no reaction, but she could swear his eyes hardened a tad. “I didn’t realize my renown reached so far east.” He said it sardonically, but she knew he was being serious.

“I doesn’t,” she replied honestly. “Not really… I, um. I knew Marlene.” That was risky. But it was the only thing she could think of.

He took a deep breath, and she was definitely starting to understand why everyone was so scared of him. His utter stillness and undying composure was deeply unnerving. “Haven’t heard that name in awhile,” he said. He said nothing else, clearly waiting for her to explain further.

“I grew up in Boston,” she told him, figuring she’d stick as close to the truth as possible. “In a military school. She...kept an eye on me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A FEDRA school?”

“Yes…?” she said slowly, watching him. No reaction, of course, but something did flicker in his eyes. “I know _she_ was...affiliated elsewhere.”

His bottom lip curled, eyes crinkling slightly, and she realized with a start that he was grinning. “I see,” he said. “And were you also... _affiliated_ elsewhere?”

“Not officially,” she replied. “I haven’t heard from her in years. But I know she headed West at one point-”

“She’s dead,” Isaac said simply. “Two years ago.”

Ellie's stomach twisted as her heart fell into it. She had suspected, of course, but hadn’t known for sure. “Oh.”

“Her, ah...affiliates, also. Most of them died in a...raid. The rest disbanded.”

She blinked hard, staring down at her right hand balled tightly in her lap. Her left arm ached and her wrappings felt altogether too tight all of a sudden. “But some of them...came here. Right?”

He stared at her for a moment, and then reached into his desk drawer, removing a glass bottle with amber liquid in it, and two tin mugs. He poured a finger into each one and then pushed one across the desk towards her. “No, thanks,” she said, but he held his own mug out expectantly anyway. She tried again: “I’m seventeen.” Not that her age had ever stopped her.

“And?” he retorted, an edge entering his voice for the first time. She took the hint and grabbed the mug, lifting it tentatively towards his. He moved so fast she couldn’t have stopped him if she tried, his free hand seizing her right arm before he put down his mug and tugged up her sleeve with the other. She squeaked in surprise; some of the liquid had splashed out of her mug and amber droplets rolled in tickling rivulets towards her elbow, some catching over the uneven flesh on the inside of her forearm. The ink outline of her tattoo didn’t cover the mottled skin there, which showed puckered and pink in the dim grey light.

Isaac said nothing, but all pretense of pleasantry was gone from his face. His eyes travelled slowly from the scar to her eyes, and she wanted to dig a hole to bury herself in. A long moment passed; he was still holding her arm tightly, his dark fingers digging into her flesh, the evidence of who she was held out on display. 

He dropped her arm suddenly and without ceremony, drained his mug in one gulp, and cleared his throat.

“You know what happened that night,” she blurted out. Her fingertips tingled as adrenaline shot through her. “Don’t you?”

He looked into her eyes, and for once his thoughts were clearly expressed there. _You don’t._ Not a question - he knew. 

“Please,” she breathed, blinking furiously against the tears that were threatening behind her eyes. “I have to know.”

And Isaac looked away, towards the window. After a moment he followed his gaze, pushing himself up from the desk with effort and loping over to the window, hands clasped behind his back. A long silence stretched on, so long Ellie thought maybe she was being dismissed, until his voice reached her, low and barely audible. “There’s someone who’s going to want to speak to you. Nora,” he called, and the door opened almost immediately, indicating that she’d been waiting on the other side the whole time. “Put her in 4D.”

Nora hesitated, glancing from Isaac to Ellie, and then gestured for Ellie to follow her. Ellie did so, her legs threatening to give out from underneath her. Mel was also waiting in the hallway, her large eyes questioning, but Ellie couldn’t speak. As soon as the door shut behind her she sank to her knees and puked onto the dull, paisley-patterned carpet.


	2. 4D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie learns the truth about what happened that night at Saint Mary's, and needs to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, I wrote and re-wrote this chapter so many times it's not even funny. My goal is to post a chapter a week, but I'm going back to uni this week so I don't know if I will be able to stick to that. But I AM committed to this story so I WILL continue it, I promise. Your patience is appreciated! And don't worry, we will be getting some Abby in the next chapter. Thanks to all who have followed and commented so far - it really is motivating to have your interest and support.

4D, it turned out, was an apartment on the fourth floor of the building that had been set up for holding “guests” of the WLF. That’s what they called her - a “guest” - the most transparent euphemism she’d ever heard. She was, for all intents and purposes, a prisoner, if the ever-present guard stationed at the end of the hallway was any indication. Nora had informed Ellie that the person Isaac had mentioned wanted to speak with her had left that afternoon and would meet with her upon returning, but Nora failed to mention how long the person would be gone or any other information about the person at all. Whoever it was, it was clear that staying with the WLF was dependent on whatever this person had to say to her. It had to be someone connected to Salt Lake City, she determined quickly, and her stomach turned at the thought. Someone who could give her answers.

4D was a studio apartment that was on the same side of the building as Isaac’s office; through the windows, the Ferris wheel loomed in the distance, and Ellie spent the first few hours of her captivity staring out at the harbour and open ocean beyond, the horizon lined here and there with Seattle’s outlying islands. She quickly grew bored of this, though, and turned to inspect the rest of the apartment. Sparsely furnished, as Isaac’s had been, it boasted a twin bed, a lumpy old couch, and a table with one chair. The kitchenette was missing all major appliances and the sink didn’t work, so Ellie figured - or rather, hoped - that someone would be bringing meals to her. Thankfully, the bathroom sink had running water and a toilet that actually flushed, much to Ellie’s surprise. 

She wondered if there were any other “guests” in the building. She hadn’t seen anyone else, and couldn’t hear anyone through the walls. Through the window she could see trucks departing from and arriving at the forward base, and the patrol at the top of the gate switching off in four hour increments, but despite being able to see so many people she felt very much alone.

It didn’t take long for her to start feeling restless and a little pissed off. By the time Mel showed up in the afternoon of her third day, Ellie really had to fight the urge to push past her and flee down the hall, posted guard be damned. But she resisted, both for the simple fact that she knew she was still too weak to run, let alone fight, and that escaping would render coming here entirely pointless. Besides, her bad arm was still in a sling, and she had no weapons, not even her mother’s knife. 

“Gotta change your wrappings,” Mel said as she set down her kit and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Ellie murmured, sitting down to give Mel better access to her shoulder. She winced as Mel undid the sling and pain shot from wrist to collarbone.

“Any headaches, nausea, or blurred vision?” Mel asked in a doctorly voice as she gently pried the gauze pad off the wound in Ellie’s shoulder blade. Ellie grit her teeth to keep from crying out - it hurt like a sonofabitch. Whatever that huge bald fuckface had hit her with, it had done a number on her. “Looks like you were hit with a blunt weapon,” Mel explained suddenly, as though reading Ellie’s mind. “Your shoulder got dislocated, your muscles badly bruised, and you lost a lot of blood from the open wound. Lucky for you, I don’t think any bones are broken, and you managed to dodge a nasty infection. Do you remember what happened?”

“Barely,” Ellie replied, as images of barred teeth and scarred faces swam in her periphery. And faintly, at the back of her mind, the memory of a high-pitched whistle made the hair on her arms stand on end. “I got jumped by about half a dozen...I don’t know _who_ they were. Kinda primitive-looking, and they _whistled_.”

Mel drew a breath. “Scars,” she said. She pressed a pad soaked with alcohol to Ellie’s wound and Ellie couldn’t bite back the pained cry that escaped her. Mel squeezed her good shoulder in a surprisingly effective gesture of reassurance. “They’ve been...making life difficult for us for the past few years. There’s a truce right now between us and them, but you don’t exactly look like one of us,” she added with a small grin. “They can be pretty ferocious. You’re lucky you made it out alive.”

“I can handle myself.” Ellie looked at Mel, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact as she wrapped Ellie’s back in a clean bandage and strapped her arm to her chest once again. “So how long are they gonna keep me here anyway?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light. She knew Mel was sympathetic, which meant she was breakable. Ellie wasn’t sure how much sway she had with Isaac or whoever it was Ellie was waiting for, but she may at least be able to offer up some information. “Not that I’m complaining about the hospitality…”

Mel seemed decidedly uncomfortable as she peeled off her gloves and packed up her kit. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “Isaac won’t tell us anything.”

Ellie’s heart sank. “Did he at least say how long this person is gonna be away for?”

Mel shook her head. “He didn’t. I don’t even know who it is he's referring to.” She bit her lip, taking in the distress that must have been clearly displayed on Ellie’s face. “Standard rotations are two week postings, but there are shorter ones. I can try and find out, but Isaac’s been very tight-lipped about everything, and he can be…” She trailed off, but Ellie got the gist. Having only spent five minutes in a room with Isaac, she could already tell that he likely would not respond well to being pushed for information he wasn’t willing to give. “I’m sorry, I know none of this is helpful.”

Standing up, Ellie moved away from Mel aimlessly, rocking on the balls of her feet. “I know I’m...injured,” she said, forcing the word out through a clenched jaw, “but I am still capable. I’m sure there’s something more useful I could be doing than bumming around in here. Some one-armed job that needs doing?”

“I’ve already suggested that,” Mel replied with a smile. She paused for a moment, then stepped towards Ellie, her small hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think it’s important for you to know. Things are very...volatile around here right now. There’s some stuff going on out in the field that’s… Well, the Scars, those people that attacked you? As I said, we’re currently in a truce state with them, but it’s... And, well. There’s just some internal… Essentially, tensions are high, and Isaac in particular is…”

“It’s okay,” Ellie interrupted, her tone relaxing slightly. She could tell Mel was trying, and she appreciated the effort, even though it was of pretty much no use to her right now. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. I just hate sitting around, you know?”

Her dark brown eyes warmed at that, and she flashed Ellie a genuine smile. “Yeah. I get that.” She glanced around the room, her brow furrowing slightly. “What I _can_ do is find some leisurely things to occupy your time. Any particular kind of books you read, or music you listen to? I might even be able to wrangle a TV, some DVDs...?”

“Actually,” Ellie replied, feeling a surge of energy pass through her, “was my backpack brought in from the - what was it? The Wall?”

“Yes,” Mel said. “I think so. No one brought it to you? 

Ellie shook her head. “No. I haven’t seen any of my things. I also had a pistol, a rifle and a switchblade…”

“I’ll check with the Stadium and hunt it all down,” Mel replied quickly. “I’m so sorry, that seems like such a huge oversight on our part.”

Ellie shrugged it off. “And I mean if there is a TV, I love a cheesy action movie as much as the next guy,” she threw in. “Or like...comic books? Honestly, anything at this point.”

Mel was nodding and navigating towards the door, her departure imminent. She grabbed her medical kit from off the table. “Got it. I’ll be back later this afternoon.”

“Hey, Mel?” Ellie called out before she disappeared through the door. “Thanks.”

Mel offered a shy grin, and then she was gone.

///

Mel made good on her promise, and showed up a few hours later with Ellie’s backpack and weapons, the latter of which she merely showed her before sending them downstairs to be locked up. While she would rather have them where she could see them, at this point Ellie was content with having her backpack, which contained a change of clothes and, most importantly, her journal. Mel also managed to find her a couple of comic books and an old stereo, along with a handful of cassette tapes (“I wasn’t sure what kind of music you liked so I tried to find a variety,” she had said sheepishly) and, best of all, some basic toiletries and a hot plate on which to boil water for a bath. Ellie decided that Mel was alright.

Meals were also brought to her three times a day and were sufficiently edible. Before Ellie knew it, a week had gone by. She had read and re-read the comic books, listened to all the music tapes several times each (excluding the country one, which was too painful to listen to right now), and had delighted in a warm sponge bath. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to occupy her time and, more importantly, occupy her thoughts. Whenever she began to think too broadly about what being here meant, about Jackson or any of its residents who no doubt were worried sick about her, about _him_ , a tightness began to seize her chest with a breathtaking force. 

One night, six days in, it got the best of her, and she was up until dawn doubled over on the floor, hyperventilating to the point of dry-heaving. A _panic attack_ , she had heard Tommy call it once, when she’d drank four beers and told him about a similar experience she’d had a year or so ago. He had had a girlfriend in his younger years who was susceptible to them and had witnessed his fair share of breakdowns. Ellie had tried to remember the breathing technique he had told her about, and had finally drifted into a dreamless sleep just as the first rays of daylight were starting to stream into the apartment. 

The day after that, Ellie was woken in the early afternoon by a knock at the door. Ellie rolled out of bed and hastily pulled on her jeans, awkward with one arm, but wandered to the door in just her tank top, thinking it was Mel delivering lunch. But when she opened a door a young man was standing in front of her, someone she had never seen before. She started, blinking her still sleepy eyes, and automatically folded her good arm across her midriff. 

“Hey,” he said, with a pleasant if not tentative smile. “Ellie, right?”

She balked for a moment, too tongue-tied and groggy to form a concrete sentence. Was _this_ who she had been waiting for? There was absolutely nothing familiar about him, though he didn’t have a particularly memorable face, either. He was tall, stocky, and freckled all over, with light auburn hair, red stubble peppering his round jaw, and hazel eyes that didn’t bear the same guarded quality that most people had around here. Not that she _would_ recognize him, she reasoned with herself. She had no memory of the Firefly hospital because she had been unconscious the entire time she was there. Still, he didn’t _look_ like a Firefly - what she remembered of them in Boston, that is.

“My name’s Owen,” he continued easily when Ellie didn’t respond. “Mind if I come in?”

Ellie nodded and stepped aside, letting Owen into the apartment, and pointedly left the door open. Evidently making himself at home, he hauled himself up onto the kitchen counter, legs swinging and boots banging into the cupboards a couple times. “So! How’re you feeling? I hear you had a run-in with our not-so-friendly neighbours.” There was a goddamn _twinkle_ in his eye. Who was this dude?

“Uh...fine,” Ellie replied stupidly. She stood in the middle of the room, body tensed, eyeing him warily.

Owen read her body language. “Alright, I’ll cut to the chase,” he said, to Ellie’s relief. “Isaac sent me in here to talk to you. He said you were asking about the uh, Fireflies.” He only hesitated slightly before saying it, but the word still made a chill pass rapidly up her spine. 

“He said someone would want to talk to me.” Ellie took a couple steps further into the room but remained perpendicular to the door. “Is that you?”

Owen shrugged. “Guess it depends on what you want to know.”

Ellie reached for her hoodie and pulled it on awkwardly, keeping one eye on Owen at all times. The left arm of the hoodie hung limply, her arm itself still being in its sling against her chest. Smoothing herself out, she made her way across the room and came to lean against the table. “Who are you?” she asked. A good enough place to start, given that she didn’t necessarily want to delve into everything with a wild card. 

“A, uh... _retired_ Firefly,” he replied sardonically. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as Owen reached into his pocket and produced a small medallion on a chain, which he held out to her. She took it carefully, as though it would explode, and turned it around in her hands. One one side, the telltale moth symbol was etched roughly. On the other, the name ‘OWEN MOORE’ stamped with his soldier number under it. 

“What happened to them?” she whispered, handing him back his medallion with trembling fingers.

It was Owen’s turn to fold his arms as he shrugged. “We were raided one night. Bunch of us died. We disbanded.”

“But _why_?” Ellie demanded exasperatedly before she could help herself. “I knew Fireflies in Boston, and I’m sure I didn’t even know _half_ of what they were trying to achieve. After everything, you just gave up after one raid? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Owen had gone still, and his pleasant expression was replaced by something else - confusion? Perplexity? Awe? He studied her closely for a moment, his shoulders falling. “You really don’t know.” It wasn’t a question. 

“It’s why I’m here,” she said helplessly, her good arm slapping against her side. His gaze dropped to her arm at the movement, and he swallowed before launching himself off the counter and striding towards her, boldly holding out his hand for consent. She obliged, and lifted her arm haltingly towards him. 

His touch was featherlight and gentle as he pushed her sleeve up, revealing her fading tattoo outline inch by inch, and the mottled skin it had been designed to eventually hide. He made a sound when he saw it that may have been a laugh, may have been a scoff, may have been a sob. “So it is you,” he said, barely a whisper. He let go of her arm and stepped away, wiping his eyes furtively with the sleeves of his army-green undershirt. Clearing his throat and setting his hands on his hips, he regarded her steadily, the previous mirth gone from his eyes. “What _do_ you know?” he asked. 

_Tell me...what happened here. Just say it. Joel…!_

Heat spread up her neck and cheeks at the thought of telling Owen what Joel had told her. She felt embarrassed, ashamed. Both for letting the charade go on for as long as it did, and for having desperately _wanted_ his story to be the truth, even though it gutted her, because she knew anything else would be unforgivable. She hated him for lying to her, for _continuing_ to lie to her, for _years_ , hated him for making her seek answers from a total stranger. It didn’t matter, though. The recordings and research she had found at Saint Mary’s Hospital were damning enough, and the ultimatum she had given him led little room for their relationship to continue regardless of his response.

Ellie swallowed thickly around the growing lump in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I...was told, that… There was no cure. That there were other people like me, but that the...tests were - ineffective, that the doctors couldn’t…” She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. “That much I know isn’t true.”

Owen shook his head. “No. You were absolutely an anomaly.” He pressed his lips together for a moment as he studied her. “Did... _he_ tell you all that?” 

Ellie drew a sharp intake of breath and broke eye contact, her gaze dropping to her shoes. 

“It’s okay,” Owen said. “We know his name.” 

Her head snapped up at that, alarmed. Owen was still looking at her, his brow raised in a look that might have been concern, or pity. “We’ve been trying to find him for years.”

_There’s someone who’s going to want to speak to you._ Isaac’s words came back to Ellie and hit her like a truck. _We know his name._ Ellie sat down heavily in the chair adjacent to the table, her heart pounding in her ears. _A bunch of us died in a raid._

“He -” she choked out, her eyes starting to sting. “He - did he -”

“The cordyceps growth in your brain mutated,” Owen continued, his voice unnervingly even, reminiscent of Isaac. “The doctors were planning to remove it in order to study it and maybe create a vaccine from it. But the whole... _process_ \- it would have killed you.” He paused for a moment, and finally looked away. “ _He_...didn’t like that. He took you, and he...well, fuck. He killed more than half of us, Ellie.”

There it was. The truth, as Ellie had suspected. As she had known, for years. An unfamiliar sense of calm washed over her as she sat there with this knowledge, her mind darting between the lines, answering previously unanswered questions, and presenting her with an image she didn’t realize she’d had stored as a memory. The back of Joel’s head from her spot on the backseat of the truck. His eyes on her in the rearview mirror. His hands clenched, white-knuckled, on the steering wheel. And on his wrist - barely visible from her vantage point - a streak of dried blood.

Owen remained silent as she processed all this, still keeping his gaze anywhere but on her. Ellie studied him, trying to strip two years off of him to get a better picture of the boy he would have been, wrestling with the loss of the hope Joel’s choice had no doubt stripped him of. He couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than her, she realized - like Mel. He’d been a _kid_ , like Ellie had been. _The kids are on their way to Isaac._

“You were there,” she breathed. “Weren’t you? That’s why Isaac said you’d want to speak to me.”

Owen nodded, and to her dismay, his eyes filled with tears. He cleared his throat, but they spilled over anyway, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “There’s someone else,” he said, once he’d composed himself somewhat. “But she can’t know.”

Ellie released her clenched fist and ignored the half-moon indentations her nails had left in her palm. “Why?”

“Why are you here?” Owen asked, his tone shifting suddenly. “Really? Why did you come all this way?”

“I needed to know what you just told me,” she replied uneasily. 

He strode away from her, to the window, and looked out over the harbour, hands shoved in his pockets. She heard him sigh shakily as he bowed his head. “Are you staying?” he asked, so quietly Ellie barely heard him from across the room.

She paused for a moment in surprise. She had a bizarre urge to go to him, to close the distance between them, to look him in the eye. She resisted all of this, of course, for she couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to. Her feet were like lead bricks, pulling her to the bottom of the ocean. “I didn’t realize that was up to me,” was all she said in response.

“You crossed half the country and fought off a squad of Scars, _alone_ , to get here,” Owen extrapolated, throwing her a glance over his shoulder. “You can fight. We need fighters.” He paused for a moment, and then turned away from the window, taking a few steps back across the room towards her. “Is he still alive?” he asked quietly. Fleetingly, Ellie wondered why he wasn’t asking if she knew _where_ Joel was, though she was relieved he wasn’t. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded once. Owen took in the information with a nod of his own head, and then raked a hand through his hair, making it stand on end in a way that would have been comical if the circumstances were different. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay, okay… Look. It’s complicated. But if you’re going to stay, I need to know that what I just told you is all you really came for. And if you are going to stay...he needs to be dead. You understand me?”

She somehow was able to construe that what he meant by that was that for all intents and purposes, Joel needed to be dead. As far as Owen and Ellie were concerned, from now on, Joel Miller was dead. Her stomach lurched at the thought. As she had ridden away from Saint Mary’s Hospital nearly two weeks ago, she had told herself that Joel was dead to her, anyway. Now, though, when being faced with a perpetually Joel-less future, and with no longer truly having any way of knowing whether he in fact _was_ still alive - the old fucker refused to give up going on patrol even though he always complained of various bodily pain when he got back - she hesitated. Could she, truly, walk away? The magnitude of what she had done crashed down on her with such force that it took her breath away. Images of Jackson flashed through her mind, the town square lit up by fairy lights winking off the snow in the winter, the streets muddy and mottled with manure in the spring. Her friends’ faces - Jesse, Dina, Cat - never again. Tommy, Maria. _Joel_. 

This was a crossroads. And Ellie had to pick a route, _now_. 

_There was...no cure_. The knife twisted feebly into her back, and pain shot through her injured shoulder in response.

Meeting Owen’s eyes and setting her jaw, Ellie decided. “Yeah. He’s dead.”


	3. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ellie adjusts to life at the Stadium and the WLF's ruthlessness, she unwittingly makes an adversary of one of the soldiers returning from rotation.

The WLF - the Washington Liberation Front, Ellie learned it stood for - were no joke. She had never seen a compound more densely populated, more self-sufficient, or more organized. It was like Jackson, times ten in every regard. Ellie didn’t think she had ever seen this many people in one place, even in Boston; there were quite literally thousands of WLF - Wolves, they called themselves. Isaac was the only surviving member of the original WLF, a small group of rebels that had defeated FEDRA for control of Seattle almost two decades ago. Ellie hadn’t seen him since her first meeting with him, and she wasn’t necessarily opposed to keeping it that way.

They occupied what had once been a football stadium, and their territory spanned the entire downtown area and surrounding neighbourhoods, with the exception of a small part of the city that had split completely off from the mainland by bombings and flooding. Ellie had heard it referred to as Scar Island, though evidently the Scars didn’t like to stay put there; the truce being an effort to cease the increasingly violent skirmishes resulting from Scar invasions of WLF territory.

This was the brief history lesson Ellie was subjected to in her first few days at the Stadium, along with crash courses in daily schedules, duty rotations, and patrol routes. Her arm still being in poor condition meant she couldn't yet participate in their rigorous training schedule, but she observed from the sidelines several hours a day. It was a lot, but she welcomed the business and overwhelmingness of it all, grateful for the distraction and for being so exhausted by the end of the day that she stumbled to her room and fell promptly into dreamless sleep. She (almost) didn't have time to think about Joel.

She was bunking with Nora for the time being, whose roommate was away on rotation, until they could find a more permanent situation for Ellie. The room was spacious and split-level, with her temporary bed on one side of the lower level while Nora’s occupied the opposite corner of the top level. There was a kitchenette, stereo, and even a TV - Mel hadn’t been bullshitting her when she said they had TVs. The bathrooms were a bit of a hike down several flights of stairs and the shower room was public, which made Ellie’s stomach twist in a knot, but other than that, they had a pretty sick setup. Definitely the most sophisticated she’d ever seen - she was reminded, fleetingly before pushing the thought away - of the makeshift water tanks she’d had hung precariously above her sink and shower in her garage back in Jackson, and the _outhouses_. 

Owen, as it turned out, was good friends with Mel and Nora, and a few other people whom Ellie was struggling to remember the names of. The one she definitely _did_ remember was a loud-mouthed guy from Mexico named Manny who upon first meeting made several passes at her before she had to awkwardly inform him that a) she was only seventeen, and b) she didn’t... _play for his team_. He then declared her his competitor and had been teasing her incessantly ever since, in a way that would have been annoying or even creepy if she couldn’t tell he absolutely did not give a fuck. There was also Jordan and Nick, who were kind of like their own little sub-pod and had apparently been best friends forever. Ellie naturally kind of fell into step with this group, and she was beyond relieved that they had unofficially taken her under their collective wing, so to speak, for she couldn’t have fathomed having to start fresh with completely new, random people. 

The mess hall, in particular, was a nightmare. Always packed, always so _loud_ , with people grouped off very bluntly and distinctly. Unlike Jackson where everyone knew everyone and you could usually exchange even a brief “how’re ya?” with anyone whenever, people here generally kept to themselves or to their groups. It was bizarre, but Ellie’s introverted nature didn’t altogether mind.

As Ellie made her way through the crowded mess hall one afternoon with a burrito in her free hand and her canteen tucked under her arm, she approached the group’s usual table in time to hear snippets of their conversation.

“...and then when she _does_ finally get back, I’m scheduled to go out _literally_ twenty-four hours later!” Jordan was complaining loudly as Ellie slid onto the bench opposite him, next to Nora, who rolled her eyes. 

“She’s only been gone a week,” Nora chided, poking at the contents of her burrito which she had spread out on her plate. “Wait til the truce is over and then you’ll enjoy the real fun of month-long excursions.”

“Do you _have_ to be so cynical about the truce?” Mel cut in from the other end of the table. “It just started.”

“It didn’t _just_ start,” Nora retorted with a scoff. “And I’m not being cynical - I’m being realistic. It’s been months. These things never last more than that, not for as long as we’ve been here.”

“I heard Danny saying his squad found a recently abandoned Scar camp just _feet_ away from the border outside fourteen,” Manny piped up around a mouthful of food. 

Ellie watched Jordan grow more and more irritated as the conversation wore on. From what she’d seen of him so far, which wasn’t much, he was a bit of a hothead, a little too rough around the edges for her to feel truly at ease whenever he was around. His slight frame practically vibrated with impending violence and he absolutely _hated_ being wrong. At present, he groaned and tossed his fork down onto his plate. “Uh, guys? I’m trying to rant about my lame sex life here? Why does it always gotta get back into an argument about the damn truce? I mean who cares about some stupid Scar camp, anyway?”

“ _You_ should,” replied Owen evenly, raising an eyebrow. “Abby and Leah are currently _in_ fourteen.”

“Yeah, so we think,” Jordan shot back. “We would actually know for sure if we were allowed to contact them.”

“If they let every couple take up airtime during rotations we’d never hear anything else,” Nora pointed out. 

Ellie tuned them out as the conversation slowly began to escalate and focused instead on forcing the dry burrito down her throat. Her appetite was pretty much nonexistent, but she wouldn’t be able to get away with skipping a meal with Mel nearby. Although, a quick glance towards the end of the table told Ellie that Mel had zoned out, too; she herself had barely touched her meal, and was poking at it absently with her fork. 

And if Ellie hadn’t been looking at Mel right at that moment, right as the big clock at the end of the mess hall chimed the hour and half the table, including Owen, stood up to head out for training, Ellie might have missed Mel’s big brown eyes following Owen’s retreating figure mournfully until he disappeared from view. 

“Hey, Ellie.” It was Nora, nudging her gently in the ribs. “C’mon. We’ve got triage duty.”

///

Triage duty, Ellie discovered to her chagrin, was part of the standard duty rotation around the Stadium for those who had not yet been assigned a permanent station, and though it wasn’t as backbreaking as farming, it was particularly difficult on the stomach. Even with the truce on, WLF members were coming back in the dozens with a varying severity of wounds and injuries, whether it be a butcher who’d nicked himself while cutting up beef or a field soldier who’d taken a bad spill while on patrol. Though Ellie was far from a trained nurse, she had seen her fair share of gore since leaving the Boston QZ and was decent at assessing minor injuries, even though it made her slightly queasy. Nora was never far away, though, and she was a natural at this type of work; in fact, she was overseeing Ellie and the other new recruits in the unit.

Ellie was shining a tiny flashlight into a young man’s eyes, checking for any sign of a concussion, when another supervising Wolf on triage duty hurried into the tent with wide eyes and made a beeline for Nora. “Code grey,” he hissed urgently into her ear. 

“Fuck.” Nora glanced around wildly before her eyes landed on Ellie. “Stay here,” she instructed. She didn’t wait for Ellie to respond and tore off her apron, reaching for her pistol before she followed her companion out of the triage tent. A commotion started outside; shouts arose in increasing levels of alarm, followed by a woman’s scream that made the hair on the back of Ellie’s neck stand on end. Instructing her patient to sit tight, she wiped her hands on her apron and grabbed the only weapon she could find: a scalpel.

At first glance, when Ellie stepped out of the tent she thought a fight had broken out. A woman, maybe in her late thirties, was screaming, crying, and fighting against a group of soldiers who appeared to be restraining her. Ellie’s eyes followed the direction of her movements until they landed on an older man, grey-haired and tired-looking, who was on his knees on the ground, his hands bound in front of him. It took Ellie a moment to process that the garbled word the woman was screaming over and over was _Dad_. 

“He’s not Infected!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. “He’s not Infected, he’s not! Please!”

Jordan and Manny materialized out of the gathering crowd of curious Wolves and darted towards Nora, who stood near the old man, looking near tears herself. Ellie saw Manny assess the situation quickly before leaning down to murmur something in her ear. She nodded, said something back to Manny, and Jordan gently pried the pistol out of her hand. 

In that instant, Ellie knew exactly what was happening. 

The screaming woman. The defeated old man. The old man’s veins straining blue and purple under his near translucent skin, and the angry red mark that was festering in pus-filled blisters on the inside of his forearm. 

As the group of soldiers wrestled the screaming woman away, Manny hugged Nora against him firmly. The old man looked Jordan in the eyes as the younger came to stand in front of him, and in his own eyes was a plea. “May your survival be long,” he mumbled, so low Ellie wouldn’t have been able to hear if she hadn’t heard the Wolves exchange this motto several times already.

“May your death be swift,” replied Jordan. Then he aimed the gun between the old man’s eyes and pulled the trigger.

///

Ellie didn’t sleep that night. 

She listened to Nora’s soft snores across the room and watched the wind turbines rotate steadily out in the Stadium’s field, but every time she closed her eyes she would see Jordan standing over that man, would hear the daughter’s desperate howls in the distance as his lifeless body fell to the ground, would feel the cool concrete under her butt as she sat down hard on it, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of her lungs at the sheer spectacle of it all. 

“What the fuck?!” she’d cried as Manny stooped to pull her to her feet, prying the scalpel from her balled fists. “Why’d he do that?!”

“Let’s get you inside,” Nora had said in response before helping Manny wrestle Ellie back into the tent, but not before Ellie saw the pool of blood growing, staining the concrete around the old man’s head.

It wasn’t as though they’d never had to mercy kill anyone in Jackson. But it was never like _that_. So deliberate, without question. Without _hesitation_. Maybe that was just Jordan, but even Nora seemed to have shrugged the whole thing off by the end of her shift. 

_You’re not in Jackson anymore, Ellie_ , a small voice chided at the back of her mind, conjuring up memories of an old movie Joel had shown her once. As the first rays of daylight began to streak the dull grey sky, Ellie let herself cry for the first time since arriving in Seattle.

///

The table was considerably quieter the next day at lunch, and it seemed everyone had as limited an appetite as Ellie. Word about the previous day’s events had spread around the Stadium like wildfire - as all news did, Ellie had deduced - and everyone seemed a little lost in their thoughts. Jordan, notably, was absent. As Ellie pushed her meal around her plate, Manny looked up at her from across the table, his expression apologetic. 

“I am sorry you had to see that yesterday,” he said quietly, only to her, though she could sense the rest of the table pricking up their ears to listen in. “Normally we would have moved him to a more secluded location first, but the bite mark was too old to risk it.”

Ellie shrugged, dropping her gaze. “Sure.”

Mel got up from the table suddenly, abandoning her plate and hurrying out of the mess hall without so much as a glance back. An awkward silence fell upon the table, punctuated only by the dull scrape of cutlery on plates, though no one actually took a bite of anything. Manny was the first to speak, his tone strained but sardonic. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “She’s just upset because Abby’s coming home and she won’t have Owen all to herself anymore.”

A thud from under the table was followed by Manny’s pained yelp as Owen aimed a swift kick at his shin. “Don’t be such an asshole,” Owen scolded. 

Manny put one hand up in surrender, the other going to rub his sore leg. “Just trying to lighten the mood, _mi chico_.”

“Who’s Abby?” Ellie asked, attempting to lighten the mood by changing the subject. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the name mentioned among the group; they’d mentioned someone named Abby was out on rotation with Jordan’s girlfriend and Nora’s roommate, Leah. 

Owen avoided her gaze and cleared his throat. “Friend of ours.”

“Listen to this guy.” Manny, looking incredulous, shared a wide-eyed glance with Nora. “‘ _Friend of ours_ ’, he says. You guys _are_ still a thing, right?”

Owen looked up sharply, frowning, his shoulders visibly tense. “‘Course we are.”

“Then say it, bro. Honestly. She’s a badass,” Manny added for Ellie’s benefit, leaning in conspiratorially towards her. She saw Owen grit his teeth from across the table. “You’ll like her. She may not like _you_ at first, but don’t take it personally. Abby doesn’t like anyone. Right, Owen?”

It looked very much like Owen could have punched Manny in the jaw. He was far too restrained for that, though, and instead chose to get up and leave the hall in a very similar fashion to how Mel had done moments earlier. 

Nora shook her head and sighed as Manny laughed to himself. “One of these days Owen’s gonna kick your ass, you know that?”

“ _Si_ ,” said Manny, grinning. “But I can take him.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. “Or Abby will - and she’ll _definitely_ beat you.”

“Those three take everything so seriously,” Manny changed the subject, stretching his thick arms above his head. “I’m sick of all the bullshit. Life is too short to be so dramatic about everything.” He met Ellie’s eyes and flashed her a shit-eating grin, which she did not return.

Nora hauled herself up off the bench, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Ellie. Gotta move you out of my room; the girls _are_ coming home this aft, and Leah’s gonna want her bed ASAP.” 

Ellie practically scrambled out of her seat, eager to escape the awkwardness at the table, and followed Nora out of the mess hall, leaving Manny by himself. Upon returning to Nora’s room it took Ellie all of five minutes to pack up her things before she was following her to her new abode a few sections over.

"You'll room with Mel," Nora said as they passed a giggling group of small children out on an errand with their teacher. "Technically Abby is her roommate, but she usually stays with Owen."

They stopped outside a door marked 203; a plaque mounted next to it declared its residents as Melanie Goodman and Abigail Anderson. Seeing the concerned expression on Ellie’s face, Nora clicked her tongue as she fished a ring of keys out of her pocket, fumbling through them for the right one. “Look, Owen and Abby’ve been on-again-off-again for a couple years, but they always work it out. I dunno. If worse comes to worse, we’ll drag a third bed in here or something. Or you can come back and stay with me and Leah. We’re more fun anyway,” she added with a wink.

Having gotten the door open, Nora held it ajar for Ellie, who followed her inside. It was laid out pretty much the exact same way as Nora’s room had been, and Nora led her down to the bed on the lower level. “Home sweet home,” she said as Ellie set her backpack down on the floor.

Ellie grimaced, taking in the boxes and personal belongings piled on the unoccupied top bunk. “I feel bad. Does she know I’m staying here?”

“She can deal with it,” replied Nora, waving the sentiment away. “I gotta head down to the med centre in case any of our arrivals need some attention. You’ll be okay?”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” And with that, Nora left Ellie alone in the room.

Unable to abate her curiosity, Ellie stepped forward to peer at the things surrounding Abby’s neatly made bed. The boxes on top were standard fare: one was labelled “Summer Clothes”, the other “Books” - though evidently her collection of books far surpassed the box’s contents. There were several stacks of them piled neatly around, all in decent condition. Ellie caught sight of several classic titles that made her want to yawn just looking at the spines. There was also a set of dumbbells, a stereo with an eclectic collection of CDs, and a few images of cityscapes tacked up to the wall. And on the night table, a single framed photo of a handsome man, probably in his mid-40s, with sandy hair. 

Climbing the stairs, Ellie explored the upper level, too. Mel’s space was also tidy, though a great deal more colourful. She also had a few books and - Ellie noticed with a grin - a set of knitting needles and a basket full of multicoloured wool. A single rubber bin was stacked under the bed full of what appeared to be...toys? Ellie made a face, deciding it was better not to question that.

She was heading back down to unpack her backpack when she heard the door open and a set of footsteps stop in their tracks. “Um, hello?”

Ellie whipped around and froze, too. A young woman was standing in the doorway, dressed in filthy fatigues and lugging a heavy-looking pack over her shoulder, staring warily at Ellie with a distinctly hostile look on her dirt-streaked face. With a start, Ellie recognized her as the blond soldier she’d seen fighting at the FOB on the day she met with Isaac. 

“What are you _doing_?” the soldier asked incredulously, her hand moving to rest on the gun strapped to her thigh.

Ellie automatically reached for her back pocket, but remembered with dismay that she had been disarmed at the FOB and had yet to get her weapons back. She was defenseless, and the soldier was becoming more and more irritated by the second. She put up her good hand slowly; it was all she could do. “Just chill out,” she said, her voice coming out a little more aggressively than she’d meant it to.

“ _At ease_ , Abby,” came a voice from the hallway. Owen appeared at the blonde’s elbow, his eyes mid-roll. “We got some new recruits and we’re a bit tight on space. You’re bunking with me for now. Come on.” He tugged on Abby’s arm, steering her bodily out of the room with a fair amount of urgency. He tossed Ellie a look that could either have been apologetic or disdainful before pulling the door closed behind them.

Ellie blinked and let out a shaky breath, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. _Abby doesn’t like anyone_ , Manny had said. Ellie grimaced. From the looks of it so far, Ellie would be no exception.

_Whatever_ , she thought bitterly, bending down to pick up her backpack. “Fuck you, too,” she muttered, to no one in particular.

///

Deciding to report for training early, Ellie made her way to the gym, cautiously rolling her injured shoulder. It felt stiff and sore from being in a sling for so long, and the joint throbbed steadily, but it was bearable. Mel had given her the okay to participate in a few of the training drills on the condition that she stop if she felt any unusual discomfort. While she appreciated the concern, Ellie was mostly just eager to actually be able to move and _do something_ again.

She was grouped up with the other new recruits. Eventually she would be assessed in the hopes that she could join a more advanced squadron, but she was stuck with the maggots for now until she was fully healed. As her fellow trainees trickled in, she allowed herself to gape a little at her surroundings. It was easily the largest and most sophisticated gym she’d ever seen, with clean and operational equipment, decent lighting, a meticulously organized check-in system, and even a working sauna. 

Feeling a little self-conscious in her WLF-branded clothes that were all slightly too big for her, Ellie found an unoccupied area of the room to do a few gentle stretches on her own, luxuriating in the feel of moving muscles again and wincing as she hit a few particularly stiff spots. Joel would roll his eyes and shake his head if he saw her struggling like this. “You ain’t old enough to be moanin’ and groanin’ like that, kiddo,” he’d said once on such an occasion as they’d warmed up before patrol. “Wait ‘til you get to my age - parts of you will be hurtin’ that you didn’t even know existed.”

“If I _get_ to your age,” Ellie had retorted, barely hiding her grin, “I’ll consider myself lucky.” Joel’s smile had faltered a little at that.

Ellie shook her head to clear the intrusive memory, focusing on her breathing as she stretched in order to slow her quickening heartbeat. Her pulse skyrocketed again, however, when a whistle blew at full force, followed by a barked order. “On your feet, soldiers!” She awkwardly pushed herself up onto her feet, and as she followed the direction of her drill sergeant’s voice, her heart sank. “We’re doing hand-to-hand combat today so I want everybody’s knuckles wrapped in sixty seconds,” Abby instructed, leading by example. 

Ellie suppressed a groan and headed for the bench. So much for getting to participate today. She hadn't thought one-handed combat would on the docket. 

As the other recruits gathered in a semicircle around Abby, Ellie allowed herself to really study the blonde for the first time. Keeping in mind Nora’s quip about Abby being able to kick Manny’s ass, Ellie wouldn’t be at all surprised if that were true. Abby was tall, a bit stocky, with broad shoulders, and the girl was all muscle apart from a hint of softness around her jaw. Ellie looked away before she got caught looking again, grudgingly admitting to herself that she was a bit impressed by Abby’s apparent physical prowess. But her interest stemmed beyond that; people who didn’t like Ellie at first always fascinated her a little, because she generally didn’t like anyone at first, either.

When Ellie looked back up, she was startled to see the rest of the trainees looking back at her. Focusing her eyes beyond them, her gaze met Abby’s directly. “Oh shit,” she muttered to herself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Abby asked in a tone that was not unlike a sneer. At a complete loss for words, Ellie just pointed to her injured arm, tucked tightly against her chest in its sling. Abby raised an eyebrow. “You think a sore shoulder gets you out of training?”

“It’s hand-to-hand,” Ellie said stupid _stupid_ stupidly, her voice rasping with disuse. A snicker rolled through the onlookers, and Ellie felt her cheeks burn.

Not bothering to hide her sardonic grin, Abby jerked her head to the side. “Get up here.”

Gritting her teeth, Ellie did as she was told, doing her best to ignore the stares of her peers, who parted to make way for her as she approached the front of the room. “This is actually good,” Abby said, addressing the rest of the group. “Sometimes we _do_ need to fight one-handed.” She turned towards Ellie, looking less mocking now, more focused on the task at hand. “I heard you took down some Scars all by yourself,” she said. “Let’s see what you got.”

Ellie wouldn’t say she _took them down_ so much as _narrowly escaped with her life_ , but she wasn’t about to correct Abby on that front, or whoever had told her as much - a voice at the back of her mind wondered, intrigued, who that had been.

Ellie realized as soon as she swung at Abby that she was going to lost this spar. It was obvious from the first movement; Abby snatched Ellie's good arm as it came at her and used it as leverage to twist Ellie around, aiming a firm jab at her kidneys before swiping at the backs of her knees with her calf. Before she knew it Ellie was flat on her back, air exploding from her lungs in an embarrassingly loud gasp, and her shoulder was on fire. 

Abby bent over her, her long hair hanging down towards Ellie’s face, baring her teeth in a way that made Ellie very aware of the appropriateness of the militia’s choice to call themselves _Wolves_. Abby was a predator, and her prey was anyone or anything to get in her way. And Ellie was sleeping in her bed. “Maybe you were just lucky,” Abby said, quietly so only Ellie could hear, and then she straightened up and walked away, leaving Ellie wishing the rubber floor would open up and swallow her whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feel free to leave a comment if you feel so inclined. I'm always happy to read your thoughts and impressions. Hoping to get the next chapter up late next week - take care in the meantime! xo


	4. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly freed from her sling, Ellie attends a furlough party and gets to know a few members of the WLF a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I've been really busy with school and it also took me awhile to get to a place where I was happy with this chapter. I hope it's worth the wait! Thanks for your patience.

“How’s that feel?” Mel asked as Ellie slowly, carefully stretched her left arm out in front of her. “Stiff, I bet?”

Ellie’s face was too scrunched up in pain to respond, but she kept going determinedly, gritting her teeth against each tiny explosion of pain that erupted from wrist to scapula. Today was supposed to be her first day without that fucking sling, and she was determined to stay on schedule. The discomfort and inconvenience of the sling alone was driving her crazy, but it seemed very likely that she’d have to keep it on since Abby kicked her ass at hand-to-hand yesterday, which resulted in a few pulled stitches and some impressive bruising. Mel had nearly had a conniption when Ellie was brought to the med center, and she was babying Ellie now more than ever. As much as Ellie appreciated the concern, it was really starting to get on her nerves.

Funnily enough, though, when Mel had grilled her about who had put Ellie on her back, so to speak, Ellie had lied and said it was one of the other new recruits. The reason for this was not heroic and not for Abby’s benefit - Ellie simply didn’t want Mel to know that it had been Abby who had bested her, even though she doubted Mel would have been surprised. Having been practically useless for going on three weeks now, Ellie’s pride was already far more bruised than her back.

“Well,” Mel said finally after poking around Ellie’s back and arm for a bit. “The good news is I don’t think you need the sling all day anymore. Just at night to make sure you don’t sleep on it weird. The bad news is, those pulled stitches aren’t looking very good, and I don’t want you out in the field until this wound has closed up. That’s an infection waiting to happen.” She made a disapproving noise as she gently prodded at said stitches, causing Ellie to suck in air sharply. “This is gonna sting.”

Ellie braced herself but still exhaled shakily, gritting her teeth as the alcohol-soaked gauze pad made contact with the wound. As she saw Mel reaching for a clean bandage out of the corner of her eye, and impulse seized her. “Can I see it?”

Mel froze, frowning. “What?”

“The wound,” Ellie said quietly, feeling heat creep up her neck. “Can I...see it?”

Mel only looked stunned for a moment before reaching for a small hand mirror. “Sure.” She helped Ellie over to the little cabinet over the sink, which was inset with a mirror. Ellie turned her back to it and held the hand mirror up. 

It was worse than she’d imagined. The gash was easily eight inches long from the base of her neck cutting diagonally across her left shoulder blade towards her ribs. The flesh around it looked angry and inflamed, and bruises completely surrounded it, dark purple with visible burst blood vessels. Easily one of the nastiest wounds she’d ever seen on her own body, barring of course the mottled flesh on the inside of her right forearm. 

“It’ll leave an impressive scar,” Mel said, her eyes hovering intently on Ellie’s face. “But it seems like you’re accustomed to those,” she added as she took the hand mirror back. She nodded towards Ellie’s right arm with a shy grin. “What happened there? If you don’t mind me asking. Being a medic, I’m...curious about these things.”

“Um.” Ellie bit her lip. Most of the group had been pretty good at avoiding asking Ellie questions. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement amongst members of the WLF; a sort of don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy, with the understanding that almost everyone there had done what they needed to do to survive at one point or another, and information was only given willingly and unprompted, unless it was necessary intel. Fortunately, Ellie had been lying about the wound on her right arm for a few years now, and was prepared with an explanation. “I spilled some sort of chemical on it when I was younger,” she said. “My, uh… a friend of mine was in the process of covering it up.”

Mel nodded, and Ellie suppressed a sigh of relief that she’d bought the story. “I see,” Mel said, her eyes tracing the lines of Ellie’s incomplete tattoo. “You know, I may know a guy who could finish that for you, if you want.”

“Really?” Ellie grinned at that, though part of her also sank inwardly at the thought of someone else completing Cat’s work. She’d broken up with Cat only a couple months ago, a realization which blew Ellie’s mind for a second. A familiar pang of guilt shot through her, but she pushed it aside. She had avoided thinking too much about Cat since she’d arrived in Seattle, and she was determined not to start now. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

“So, what’s the verdict?” Ellie asked a short time later, once Mel had finished bandaging her up. 

Mel let out a sigh as she spoke. “Well, like I said, no field work for you at this point. I’m tempted to keep you on the bench from training, too, but I know you’re itching for some action. Can you handle another week of downtime?”

Ellie groaned. “You’re the doctor.”

“Sorry,” Mel said with a small smile. “You don’t wanna be assessed while you’re still injured anyway. You’ll end up with shitty posts in abandoned zones that don’t ever see any action. Trust me.”

Ellie made her way back to her room, her left arm feeling strange and cold hanging by her side out of the sling. Her mind wandered back to the image of the wound on her back, and the scar it would undoubtedly leave. She wondered what it had been, what weapon had sliced her open. She barely remembered the impact of it, and had only managed to escape another blow by grabbing a fistful of dirt and lobbing it at her attacker’s face with all the strength she had left. The momentary distraction this had offered was enough for her to crawl into the cover of some tall ferns, where she had been able to load an explosive arrow onto her bow and finish the job. It had likely been an axe or a hatchet, she reckoned, one that had been just blunt enough to not kill her outright. For a moment she felt the damp earth beneath her again, felt it seeping through her clothes and pressing cold into her skin, felt the dirt thick under her nails and tasted blood and bile on her tongue. The encounter was mostly a blur, but every now and then a sensation struck her with such clarity that it took her breath away.

Her mind was still reeling from reliving these particular instances from the attack that she almost didn’t notice that the room was occupied until she was already inside of it and closing the door behind her. “Oh. Sorry.”

Abby glanced up from where she was crouched over an open box on the floor in front of her bed. Her expression was unreadable as usual, but she at least didn’t appear hostile for once. “Just grabbing some stuff,” she said gruffly as she continued to rummage around in the box that Ellie gathered she had brought down from the top bunk.

Ellie hovered in the entryway awkwardly, not sure what to do with herself now that her plan to take a nap was temporarily thwarted. “How’s your arm?” Abby asked, perhaps sensing Ellie’s hesitation, though she didn’t look up from the box.

“I’m benched for another week,” Ellie replied sullenly, moving forward to lean her good elbow on the breakfast counter that separated the two levels of the room. From this vantage point she could see into the box. It was one of the ones containing books, she noticed with surprise; Abby had pulled out a few volumes and appeared to be putting a couple others back. “No thanks to you, I might add.” She had meant for it to be a joke, but it came out wrong, and a wave of self-consciousness passed over her.

But Abby just scoffed. “You give attitude, you get smacked. That’s how it works around here. Might wanna learn that before you get off the bench or you’ll wind up right back there.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “I sat out because every other trainer has made me so far.”

Abby met her gaze, and now her eyes were hard. “I’m not every other trainer.”

She certainly wasn’t. For one thing, she easily had to be the youngest of the dozen or so Ellie had seen so far. She couldn’t be more than a couple years older than Ellie herself. And, well. She was a girl. Despite the population of the WLF being relatively evenly divided between men and women, the hierarchy of military positions was far more skewed, and there were a disappointing number of men in authoritarian positions. 

Ellie cleared her throat, shifting her feet awkwardly, but before she could respond, a brief knock at the door admitted Owen, who entered without waiting for a response. “There you are,” he said exasperatedly, barely acknowledging Ellie as he stepped forward into the room. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“Except for my room, apparently,” Abby retorted snidely. “I’m just grabbing some books. Relax.”

With an exasperated sigh, Owen glanced sidelong at Ellie, and inclined his head towards the door. “Can I talk to you?” Not seeing that she had any choice, Ellie followed him out into the hall, her brow furrowing when he shut the door behind them. “What are you doing?” He asked.

“Well I was gonna take a nap…” Ellie took a second to take in Owen’s tense body language and shifty eyes. He was rubbing his palms together nervously, too. “...What’s up?”

“Did you say anything to her?” Owen whispered.

“To Abby? I have _said_ things to her,” Ellie replied. She went to fold her arms and winced when pain shot through her left shoulder. “But I doubt you’re talking about anything along the lines of ‘don’t ever fucking tackle me again’.” He didn’t need to know she hadn’t actually said that, but she’d definitely been thinking it.

Glancing at the door, Owen grasped Ellie’s good arm firmly around the bicep and pulled her down the hall. “I’m serious,” he said, when they were a good twenty feet away from the door. Lowering his voice even further, he leaned in furtively. “Nothing about...you know. Salt Lake, any of that?”

“Why would I?” Ellie asked. “I just met her yesterday. And we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

“Just...don’t, okay? Just don’t mention it, or your arm, or where you’re from, or— Better yet, just don’t talk to her.” 

“Why?” Ellie raised a brow, but she did genuinely want to know.

“It’s complicated,” he said, pleadingly. His shoulders were up around his ears with anxiety. Realizing how stressed he actually was, Ellie dropped the defensiveness for a moment. 

“Fine. Don’t wanna cause trouble,” she added under her breath. Especially not with the capable soldier who could likely bench press Ellie’s weight and then some. “But, like...you gonna tell me why, though? This place isn’t _that_ big. I can’t avoid her forever.”

He looked around, but they were alone in the hallway. “Not here,” he said. “Later. Okay?” 

The door to Abby’s room opened and he sprang away from Ellie as though she’d bitten him. “See ya,” he said a little too loudly as he strode away from her, throwing his arm around Abby’s neck and steering her in the opposite direction. Ellie saw Abby push him off of her before shouldering her way through the security door at the end of the hall, Owen at her heels.

Ellie entered her room once again, but now she was way too keyed up to nap. See, if Owen hadn’t said anything, Ellie likely would have steered clear of Abby as much as she could strictly for self-preservation, and she sure as shit wouldn’t have brought up a sensitive subject like Salt Lake. But now she was intrigued. Now her skin prickled at the possibility that Abby may know something else about what happened that night. And, it now occurred to her for the first time that maybe, just maybe… what Owen had told her was all bullshit.

 _There’s someone else_ , Owen had said when he’d come to see Ellie at the FOB. _But she can’t know… If you’re going to stay, Joel needs to be dead._

It hadn’t _seemed_ like he was lying, but then again, Ellie barely knew the guy. In fact, she barely knew any of these people. Maybe the past two years in Jackson had started to make her careless, had rubbed away some of the grit and wariness she’d built up in the previous year travelling with Joel, that awful year that had somehow simultaneously been the best and worst of her life so far. 

Ellie was standing in front of Abby’s bed, zoned out in her thoughts, but something pulled her gaze downwards towards the nightstand. She already knew that the frame containing the photo of the handsome man would be gone.

///

Owen and Abby didn’t show up for dinner that night, which didn’t surprise Ellie. Leah was sulking, clearly missing Jordan, who had shipped out on rotation that afternoon. Leah was tall, taller than Abby even, and willowy, with pretty hazel eyes and an antsy disposition that was not unlike Jordan’s. The rest of the group was in better spirits, which, Ellie learned quickly, was due to the fact that they had a furlough day tomorrow.

“You coming to the party tonight?” Manny asked Ellie around a mouthful of mashed potato. 

“Party?” Ellie grimaced. She wasn’t exactly a fan of parties; people in large numbers generally made her nervous. 

“Yeah,” Nora replied brightly from across the table. “Our unit’s got the day off tomorrow. Only happens once a month or so, so we get fucked up. You should come,” she added. “I’ll bet you’re ready to cut loose a bit after being cooped up for so long.”

“As long as you don’t cut _too_ loose,” Mel jumped in. “Those stitches are loose enough as it is.”

“Everyone goes,” Manny said. “Anyone who’s anyone. Good opportunity for you to make some new friends, eh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You guys sick of me already?” Ellie retorted. She wondered if everyone included Abby, and if so, how well she could hold her liquor and, under its influence, her tongue. 

“I meant _lady_ friends,” Manny explained, winking. “You won’t be getting any from anyone at this table.”

Nora laughed. “Hey, I’m bi. You never know.” 

Ellie choked on her sip of water and sputtered as Manny gave her a firm thump on the back. Mortified, Ellie felt her face go hot as her eyes watered. 

“I’m kidding,” Nora said, laughing. 

“I’m not,” said Manny, patting Ellie on the back once more for good measure. “And she really is bi.”

“Would you assholes leave her alone?” Mel interjected. “Remember she’s seventeen?”

Manny raised an eyebrow. “And? That means she can’t have fun?”

“If I say I’ll go to the party will you promise to end this conversation and never bring it up again?” Ellie asked Manny pointedly before dissolving into coughs again.

“Only if you actually go,” he replied smoothly. “If you bail, it’s fair game.”

Ellie smirked and cleared her throat. “Deal.”

///

 _Everyone_ really did seem to mean _everyone_ , and though that did happen to include Abby, it also unfortunately included Owen, who generally stayed by her side and kept close eyes on her when he wasn’t. The party occupied an entire hallway in the east wing of apartments, originating in Jordan and Nick’s room and radiating outwards. Even people who didn’t have a furlough day the next day were there, though most did bounce early.

Ellie had found a corner in one of the rooms, which she believed belonged to a guy named Jared, where she could nurse a particularly nasty cup of Stadium-brewed beer and go largely unnoticed while still able to survey most of the room - most importantly, Abby, who was currently playing a rousing game of beer pong against Manny (and winning, by the looks of it). Owen, of course, was nearby, watching the game out of the corner of his eye while chatting with a couple guys Ellie didn’t know. Ellie scowled as she took another nose-wrinkling sip of beer. It was going to be hard to get Abby alone if Owen was intent on hovering near her all night. Briefly, Ellie wondered what Owen would do if Ellie just approached her anyway, but she wasn’t interested in possibly causing a scene. 

“The beer sucks, doesn’t it?” It was Mel, her voice tearing Ellie out of her thoughts. “You okay?”

Fixing her face, Ellie nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

“A few of us are going out to smoke a joint,” Mel offered, inclining her head towards the door to the balcony. “Wanna come?”

“Someone’s got weed?” Ellie asked incredulously, already pulling herself to her feet. 

Mel laughed, louder than normal, and Ellie realized she was tipsy. “Manny’s got connections. Come on.”

The fresh air felt wonderful, though it was clear from the smell alone that they weren’t the first ones to venture outside to light up. Ellie and Mel joined a small ring of people huddled together a little ways from the door, close enough to still be able to see each-other by the warm glow emanating from within the apartments. Ellie recognized Nora in the circle but no one else, and remained mostly silent as the group chatted about various things that were of no interest to her. She did, however, accept the joint whenever it was passed her way, and after a few puffs she felt the familiar warm heaviness settle over her and finally started to relax a little. 

Weed consumed and feeling good, Ellie and Mel broke away from the group and sat on a couple crates. It was quieter here, with a good balance being struck between the muffled thrum of the music within and the field full of bleating livestock and crickets behind them. 

Mel sighed and leaned back on her hands to gaze up at the expansive, star-dotted sky above them. A bold impulse seized Ellie, and she opened her mouth before she could think twice. “Unrequited love sucks, huh?”

Mel’s head snapped around, her doe-like eyes wide. “What?”

Ellie shrugged. “Am I wrong?”

Mel looked for a moment as though she would deny it, but she gave up and leaned forward, face in her hands. “Is it that obvious?” She groaned. 

Ellie felt a pang of sympathy for the dark-haired nurse, and grimaced as an unwanted vision of Dina’s fingers entwined with Jesse’s struck her sharply. “Only to someone who’s been there, I guess. We don’t have to talk about it,” she added hastily, suddenly regretting bringing it up.

“Thanks,” Mel said with a soft, sad smile. They lapsed into silence then, staring up at the sky. Ellie enjoyed the feeling of music pulsing under her fingertips as the weed made her body relax fully for the first time since she’d ridden away from Jackson weeks ago. Mel suddenly giggled, and Ellie turned her head lazily to look at her. “It’s so stupid,” Mel said. “They’ve been together for years.”

Sensing an opportunity, Ellie seized it. “Nora said they’ve been on and off for awhile.”

Rubbing her hands up and down her face, Mel sighed loudly. “Yeah, well, he’s always _on_. No matter what shit she pulls, no matter what she puts him through.”

“Is she really that bad?” Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mel slapped her hands down onto her thighs. “She’s been through a lot. I mean, we all have, but…” She sighed again. “It’s complicated.” There was that word again. _Complicated_. “But he loves her, so… Fuck me, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said, and she was. “That’s tough.”

“It’s pathetic is what it is,” Mel said with a grimace. “But...thanks. For listening. This tends to happen when I smoke weed.” She looked at Ellie and breathed out a laugh. “What about you? What’s your pathetic love story?”

Ellie laughed, and then winced. “A classic falling for my straight best friend scenario, unfortunately. Not at all unique.”

“Ah. Is she the one who did the tattoo?” Mel asked.

Feeling her face go hot again, Ellie looked away, scratching self-consciously at her temple. “Picked up on that, huh?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Well, you aren’t right, exactly. My ex did it. My ex who my best friend was weirdly jealous of, even though she’s had the same boyfriend for as long as I’ve known her.”

“Doesn’t sound like your straight friend is entirely straight.” Mel shrugged, seeing the horrified look on Ellie’s face. “Just saying.”

“She’s straight,” Ellie assured her. “And even if she weren’t...it’s not like that. She’s just a flirt, she’s like that with everyone.”

“Sounds like you dated tattoo girl to make your best friend jealous and it worked.”

“Sounds like shut up,” Ellie retorted, smiling when Mel burst into laughter. “It’s not like it matters, anyway. I won’t see either of them again, so.”

“Why not?” Mel asked.

Biting her lip, Ellie met Mel’s gaze dead-on. “It’s…”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah,” she replied, blowing out air. “Complicated.”

They fell into a companionable silence again, just as a particularly raucous round of laughter and cheers sounded from within the apartment, presumably indicating the end of the game of beer pong. Glancing through the window, Ellie could see a small crowd gathered around the table as Abby clapped a forlorn looking Manny on the back. Ellie swallowed, realizing all at once that smoking weed was a mistake. The thought of confronting Abby alone made anxiety claw up her throat, and she took a sip of awful beer to wash it down. 

“I’m gonna go back inside,” Mel mumbled a short while later, hauling herself up from the crates. “It’s cold. You coming?”

“In a bit,” Ellie replied mildly, looking forward to being alone for a moment. Her gaze fell to her arm once Mel had gone back inside, tracing the inked lines of her tattoo, the uneven peaks and valleys of the scar it didn’t quite conceal. _It can’t be for nothing_ , she’d said to Joel once, long ago. By then she’d killed more people than she could count on both hands. By then she’d seen enough shit to make her question whether that statement was really true, even as she’d said it. And, as it turned out, it hadn’t been. It _had_ all been for nothing. The world hadn’t changed, and here she still was, breathing in the hay-scented air in Seattle of all places, high as a kite and staring at the very injury that had indirectly landed her here in the first place. 

She wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if she and Riley had not been bitten that day, three years ago now. If they’d made their way back to the school and Riley had made good on her promise to quit the Fireflies before she’d even started. If Ellie had never discovered her immunity. If she’d never met Joel. The thought made her ache deep in the pit of her gut. Likely, Ellie would have completed her training and become another faceless FEDRA soldier. Likely, she’d have been responsible for the deaths of Fireflies, anyway. Maybe she would have enjoyed it. She didn’t particularly _enjoy_ killing people now, but she could see herself maybe learning to, eventually. Maybe. If she stayed with the WLF, it seemed likely. The militia that had wiped out FEDRA definitely didn’t do so by shying away from mass murder. She wondered, vaguely, whether there had been Fireflies here, too.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of the door opening, the noise from within spilling out into the still night air until it was shut again. A struck and flickered in the semi-darkness, and the tip of a joint glowed red. “Hey,” Ellie said, quietly.

“Jesus Christ.” Abby pressed a hand to her sternum as a cloud of smoke released from her lips. The light from the apartment caught in it and cast enough light that Ellie could see Abby’s face relatively clearly, for a moment. “Didn’t know anyone was out here.”

“You sound disappointed,” Ellie said with a frown as Abby took a few steps towards her. 

Taking another pull on her joint, Abby looked down the bridge of her nose at the redhead, and released the smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “I am.” She held the joint out towards Ellie with a raised brow, questioning.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting towards the apartment. A quick scan showed no sign of Owen, but she remained weary. Still, this seemed as good an opportunity as any. She accepted the joint, careful not to brush Abby’s fingers with her own. It was next to impossible to tell how inebriated Abby was; as usual, her face was a mask, and her size rendered her a bit more steady on her feet than someone smaller might have been. Still, there was a particular looseness to her neck and shoulders that indicated a certain level of relaxation.

Together, they finished the joint wordlessly. Ellie was beginning to feel herself landing on another planet when Abby glanced her way. She’d remained standing the whole time, her non-joint wielding hand stuffed into the pocket of her cargo pants. “I need your help with something,” she said tonelessly, and turned on her heel, down the stairs towards the center of the stadium. 

Realizing she was meant to follow, Ellie got unsteadily to her feet, ignoring how the world spun around her momentarily as she followed after the larger girl, clinging to the railing as she descended the stairs. She hadn’t been this high for awhile, and though the feeling wasn’t yet unpleasant, she was very aware that her guard was effectively down. If Abby had any malicious intent, she was playing her cards right. But why she would have malicious intent, Ellie wasn’t sure, and she also wasn’t sure why her mind had gone there. Other than taking over her room, which Ellie hadn’t really had any say in, she’d really done nothing to Abby. Still, her gut wasn’t letting her trust the soldier, especially after Owen’s warning from earlier.

Abby led her halfway around the stadium and into the storage bay that Ellie had only been to once or twice. Within was the bulk of the WLF’s supply of commodities; namely extra clothes, towels, bedrolls and duffel bags, all neatly organized on various shelving units. There was also cleaning supplies and other paraphernalia that Ellie couldn’t properly take in in her current state. It was dark in here, but Abby had procured a flashlight somewhere and lit the way for them, leading Ellie towards the back of the large room where, pushed back against the far wall, sat a stack of mattresses, of varying size. 

“What are we doing here?” Ellie asked, shielding her eyes when Abby shone the flashlight at her face.

“I thought that was obvious,” Abby replied. She took Ellie’s left hand and placed the flashlight into it before seizing the end of a twin-sized mattress and pulling it bodily off the stack. “Grab the other end. With your good arm, yeah?”

Too high to question her further, Ellie did as she was told, lifting the other end of the mattress. It wasn’t heavy, and for a moment Ellie wondered why Abby didn’t just do this herself, but then figured it was likely because the size of it would have made it awkward for her to carry on her own, mass aside. Lighting their way with the flashlight, Ellie pulled and Abby pushed the mattress as they retraced their steps out of the storage area.

“Hang a right,” Abby said as the emerged back into the night air, and Ellie obeyed, pausing for a moment to ensure Abby had cleared the doorway before carrying on. 

Ellie realized, as they climbed the stairs up to the west wing of apartments - the opposite direction of the party - that they were heading for her - their? - room. She kept her mouth shut, though, even when they passed a few other soldiers in the hallway who were obviously returning from the party. They gave them some weird looks, but offered no comment, for which Ellie was relieved. 

Ellie unlocked the door when they got to the room and entered quietly, noting that Mel was already asleep in her bed. Abby shut the door softly behind them before they made their way to the lower level and, finally, set the mattress down.

“You’re on top,” Abby whispered as she reached up to begin removing the boxes of her stuff from the bare top bunk. 

Too stunned to speak, Ellie stood by awkwardly and watched as Abby finished clearing the top bunk before returning to her end of the mattress. “Help me get this up there?” Ellie did so, standing on her toes in order to reach. The mattress successfully in place, Abby stooped to open one of the cupboard doors that served as access to storage under the upper level and produced an extra pillow and blanket, which she tossed at Ellie, who caught them mostly with her face. “You can go back to the party now, if you want,” Abby said as she sat down heavily on the bottom bunk and began removing her boots. 

Ellie’s mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”

Tossing her boots aside, Abby lay down on the bed. “Or don’t. Go to bed. I don’t care.” She turned over then, facing the wall.

Ellie remained rooted to the spot for what felt like ages, but in reality was probably something more like thirty seconds, her mind struggling to push through the murk of all the weed and beer she’d consumed in order to make sense of anything that had just happened. She considered returning to the party, but she was way too stoned to socialize. However, she also wasn’t quite tired enough for sleep. She didn’t know what to do, and the thought alone was making her anxious. 

Deciding she would likely be able to fall asleep if she actually tried, Ellie tossed the pillow and blanket onto the top bunk and hauled herself up there, not without difficulty. She remained awake for at least an hour, staring up at the spinning ceiling until the sound of Mel’s, and eventually Abby’s, even breathing lulled her, finally, to sleep, all the evening’s unasked questions accompanying her into oblivion.


End file.
